


Winterhal

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dany creates the lesbian Taj Mahal, Dutiful Sansa, F/F, Historical stuff, Needy Daenerys, Sansa cannot leave the North, Winterfell, and by figurative I mean vaginas, femmeslash, muffs both literal and figurative, sleigh sex, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9509909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: Queen Daenerys and Lady Stark go for a sleigh ride...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This just popped into my head.

“What if it’s another False Spring?” Daenerys asks, eyeing the snowflakes warily.  That would be all she needed at this point. She wasn’t sure how much winter Westeros could take before they all died out. The White Walkers needn’t have bothered waging war. They could have just waited out the frost.

She stands in the Winterfell courtyard, bundled up in her heaviest black furs and wool, a a fur turban atop her head, waiting for the new sleigh to be ready. The contraption was a gift from her to her hostess--- a grand transport of white painted oak with plush, Stark-grey cushions. Built into the floor of it is a grate in which burns coals to keep one’s feet warm. It shined in the springtime sun. 

Perhaps not the most appropriate gift with winter (allegedly) ending, but Sansa needed a new sleigh. The one she inherited from her parents was damaged in the fires the Boltons set, and lacked comfort and grandeur for so high and respected a House. 

A hand rests on her back comfortingly. Dany turns to see the Lady of Winterfell smiling at her gently. Sansa wears a fur cloak and turban much like Dany’s, but in white. The Dragon Queen’s had been a gift from the other after openly admiring Lady Stark’s clothes. 

“Even at the height of the long summer, we had snows come,” Sansa assures her, “My siblings and I would go out and have snowball fights and build forts and such. There’s no need to fuss. I think I’d have heard from Bran by now if this were another False Spring.”

Daenerys shivered, in spite of herself. Sansa’s brother and his visions made her uneasy.

“If you say so.”

The driver shouts that they’re ready, and Sansa takes Daenerys’s hand. “Come now. You never got the chance to see the North in all its icy beauty last time you were here. Let me show you!”

The two women pile themselves and a small mountain of blankets and furs in the back of the sleigh. One of the kitchen women hand Sansa a travel pitcher and some cups, and urges them to drink what’s inside “before it gets cold.” 

Their driver, a woman of the Vale named Mya Stone, snaps the reins and they charge off out the front gate, pulled by two black stallions. 

“Hold out your cup,” Sansa says, opening the pitcher, “Try to hold it steady.”

She pours Daenerys some steaming, amber liquid that fills the air with a rich, spicy scent. The Dragon Queen grins. “Apple Cider?”

“Best in the Seven Realms,” Sansa replies confidently before pouring herself a cup.

They travel first through the larger streets of Wintertown. The people stop, wave, and  cheer, and the two women stand to wave as best they can while keeping their cider from spilling. The small city is much improved from the last time Dany saw it, when it was a collection of dilapidated buildings. The streets are clean and the people are well-fed and clothed. The marketplace bustles with activity, and every building, old and recently-built, have a fresh coat of paint and new roofs. The people call out Sansa’s name enthusiastically. It’s clear they attribute much of their good fortune to her. Daenerys cannot help but beam with pride.

Once they eventually leave the town for the wolfswood, they sit again, and Daenerys feels free to lean in closer to her vassal. 

“Your people love you. You’ve done beautifully here. One would never guess what the state of that place was just two years ago,” she says affectionately, resting her cheek against Sansa’s shoulder. 

Her companion’s face goes almost as red as her hair. “I didn’t do it alone,” she says modestly, “And none of it would have been possible without you.”

“I wasn’t the one here organizing and working for everyone to recover from the wars, the winter. All I did was polish that awful throne with my arse and send a bag of gold every few moons.”

“And flew your dragons against the White Walkers,” reminds Sansa. She reaches across their laps, buries one hand inside Daenery’s fur muff, and their fingers entangle. “My hero.”

Dany glances over at the driver. Mya’s back is to them, and she gives no sign of noticing anything. So the Dragon Queen turns her head and begins placing soft kisses along Sansa’s jaw. Their lips eventually meet, and Dany can taste the spice apple cider on her lover’s tongue. Sansa often tasted like lemons and summerwine, but this was just as good. 

Though Daenerys has sorely, sorely missed the lemons and summerwine.

A soft whimper echoes from Sansa’s throat, and it makes something in the pit of Daenerys’s stomach twist. Her fingers find Sansa’s hair, only for Dany to pull it back and yank off her glove so she can feel its silky texture on her fingers. All she’s had for almost a year is the small lock Sansa cut, tied, and placed in a locket for her when they parted. A beautiful gesture, but a poor substitute for the real thing. 

They’ve been together since Dany arrived in Winterfell yesterday, disappearing from the welcoming blanket in a flurry of giggles, kisses, and sweaty limbs. The sky was just starting to brighten when they finally stopped and let themselves drift off to sleep. Dany woke her lover by lavishing attention on her nipples with her mouth, and they went another round before finally rising for the day.

But even the mere hours since then seem like too long. They’ve been separated for a year. And the last time they saw one another was for only one very busy fortnight. They never had enough time. Ever. And Daenerys slept better with Sansa’s breasts as her pillow.

She peels back Sansa’s fur collar and begins kissing her neck.

“Admit it,” the Lady of Winterfell gasps, “You… designed this thing… with this.. Exact activity… in mind…”

Daenerys pulls back so Sansa may see her grin. “I didn’t design this. But I’ll admit, it did cross my mind when I picked this out.”

“We’re supposed to be surveying the land,” Sansa whines, even as she reaches down to bunch up her skirts. 

“For once, Sweetling,” Dany replies, sneaking a hand down to squeeze her lover’s knee, “Pleasure before business.”

“Al-Alright, then.” Sansa hands are reaching under Dany’s cloak to unlace her bodice. The Dragon Queen giggles and begins bunching her own skirts.

“Gods, Dany,” her lover moans a couple of minutes later, “How many layers are you wearing?”

“Not all of us are used to freezing weather all of the time,” is her reply. But Daenerys reaches down between her legs and begins yanking off her stockings and smallclothes to assist her impatient lover. Sansa goes to remove her own, but Dany stops her.

“Wait a moment,” she says wickedly, right hand slipping from between her thighs to the Lady of Winterfell’s. Sansa’s smallclothes are damp in the crotch, and Dany delights in stroking her through the fabric.

Her lover shivers in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. 

“Sweet girl,” Dany whispers, feeling the slickness there grow and grow. Sansa leans her head back and Gods, she’s a vision with snowflakes melting in her ruddy hair and on her eyelashes. Sansa reaches out to squeeze Daenerys’s breasts, circling the nipples with her thumbs through a linen tunic.

When Dany reaches underneath the linen to play with her nub proper, she kisses her lover’s mouth, eager to taste something. The cider was delicious, but it tasted better from Sansa’s lips. Dany bucks her hips as she feels Sansa come apart beneath her, under her fingers, against her lips, against her chest. 

But coming apart is only part of her peak. Moments later, the She-Wolf comes out, and Sansa practically pounces on the Dragon Queen, forcing Dany onto her back. 

“Lift up your skirts,” Sansa commands, crouching back and running her hands down Dany’s body. The Queen does as she’s told, and watches as the Lady of Winterfell kneels on the floor of the sleigh and forces her knees apart. Sansa ducks under the fabric and furs, and Dany squirms as she feels her lover’s soft lips work their way up her thighs.

Sansa nuzzles her mound teasingly until Dany, through clenched teeth, whimpers “Pleeeeease…”

Ah, bliss. Sansa is meticulous with everything she does, and this is no exception. Before she knows it, Dany’s back is arched, she’s fisting her skirts, and biting her lip hard enough to bruise. Sansa’s fingers join her mouth, only they penetrate the queen’s entrance. Quickly, they find that spot near the front wall of Dany’s cunny, and it’s like she’s being fucked inside and out. 

Once upon a time, Daenerys took her handmaiden Irri as a paramour during a particularly lonely period, and decided that though she found pleasure there, she preferred men.

That is no longer the case. Perhaps she did prefer men over women. But she prefers ladies above all.

She finds her peak, but Sansa doesn’t stop. She makes Dany lose her senses until her limbs become jelly and the dragon queen is begging her again. She barely has the energy to laugh when Sansa rises from beneath the furs and takes out a handkerchief to daintily wipe her wet chin.

Sansa, ever the careful lady, then begins fixing Dany’s clothes like she’s a doll or a child. Exhausted, Daenerys lies back and lets her. Her lover is gentle with her laces and even puts Dany’s turban back on and then tucks her into the blankets with a kiss to the forehead before putting herself in order. Then she sits primly as if nothing happened.

They’re well into woods at this point, and after regaining so energy, Dany looks out at the wilderness. Everything, from the bushes to the branches to the pine needles, sparkles, encrusted with frost. 

“Isn’t it beautiful? It’s like an enchantment,” Sansa says, seeing the expression on her lover’s face, “Nothing shine and glitters like a frosted forest.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dany says, turning her eyes on her lover, “There are your eyes. I get lost in them more easily than I could these woods.”

She loves making Sansa blush. 

“You’re a romantic fool.”

“Only when I’m with you.” With a sigh, she rests her head against Sansa’s chest, truly relaxed for what seems the first time in ages. It’s only with her that Dany finds true peace, true comfort.

“Come back with me to King’s Landing.” This slips out of her mouth without her realizing it. And all of a sudden their cozy, post-coital bliss evaporates. Sansa stiffens.

“Please stop asking me that,” she says.

“You’d prefer I command it instead?”

Sansa looks at her sharply. “Not even you have the authority to command such a thing from the Lady Paramount of the North. I’m needed here.”

“I need you,” Dany insists, meaning it.

“ _ You  _ need me here as much as anyone else does,” is her answer, “I am sworn to govern and protect the North, keep this part of your domains peaceful, enforce your laws. I cannot simply pick up and leave, especially not during these times.”

“I feel like I’m going mad, though,” Dany insists, “I feel adrift in King’s Landing. Lonely, afraid. Crushed beneath the weight of everything. You of all people must understand---”

“---I do. I also understand that if there is anyone who can handle it, it is you. Your strength is one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”

“I’m even stronger with you by my side.” She curses. “Why couldn’t you have been born a man? We could marry then.”

“Why should I have to be the man?” Sansa snaps. “Why not you? And besides, even if I were, we still could not marry because I’d still be Lord of the North. And I’d remind you that if not for your declaration that all of Westeros adopt Dornish succession customs, Rickon would be lord and I could share duties with a co-regent and be more available.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Dany says, hurt. Her work on behalf of the women of Westeros, including the reforms to inheritance laws, is one of the things she’s most proud of doing as queen. “You might be at the mercy of a co-regent if I hadn’t.”

“No!” Sansa flinches. “That’s not what I mean. Just that… You’re the reason I’m here. And I’m grateful, I am. But I need you to appreciate and respect all that my role comes with. We’re not just people, Dany, we’re institutions. Even if one of us were a man, or we could marry somehow… We can’t live by our hearts. You know that. And even if I didn’t have those duties… Dany… You know what I suffered there. I fought so hard and so long to return to my home. This is where I belong.”

Daenerys pulls back. “I’d make you a minister. I’d make you H---”

“---Please don’t say you’d make me Hand. My father was Hand.”

The Dragon Queen feels tears prick her eyes. “All of my life, I wanted to go home. I grew up begging on the streets with my brother, was passed to Khal Drogo, journeyed to Qarth, conquered Slaver’s Bay, sailed for Westeros… Always trying to find home. All I really had were memories of a house with a red door and a big lemon tree. And when I sit on the throne I aspired to my whole life, I still don’t feel like I’m home. The only time I do is when I’m with you. I know you think I’m strong and unstoppable, Sansa, but I’m so afraid that I’m not. That I’ll go mad, like my father. I once swore to myself that I would do things on my own. But that became impossible when we met. I’ve painted every door in the Red Keep scarlet, did you know that? I had lemon trees transported from Dorne and planted outside my window. Now, the lemons and the red remind me of you, and how you’re not with me.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, then looks Sansa in the eyes. “Perhaps… Perhaps you don’t feel the same. You don’t miss me as I miss you. You don’t love me or need me the same way.”

“No! My Darling!” Sansa clutches her face and peppers her face with kisses. “That’s not it, I swear! I love you, I swear it, I do. Every day we’re parted feels like an eternity. You’re what keeps me going, you’re my hero, my inspiration. But I---”

“---What?!” Dany demands. “If you love me so much, why won’t you be with me?”

“Because I would lose myself there. I wouldn’t be the same woman if I were to put everything else I am aside to be with you. Every part of me that has grown, has learned, and has been discovered since I left WInterfell for King’s Landing all of those years ago, would be suppressed. And that’s not the person you love. That’s not the person who can be what you need. Maybe, maybe if I still had Lady, I---”

Dany clenches her fist. “You can’t be with me because your dog is dead?!”

“She was a direwolf! And she was to me what Drogon is to you!” Sansa yells. Her voice is raised enough to make Mya turn around briefly, then immediately decide that she wanted no part of whatever was happening in the seats, and turn back. “She is buried in the catacombs of Winterfell! Along with my father, my mother, my brother, and Jon! Just some of the people I fight for every day! I’m sorry Viserys was all you had as a girl. I’m sorry you were on the streets. I am! But just because you didn’t have what I did doesn’t give you the right to demand that I leave behind everything I must preserve now! You have my heart, Daenerys, you have all of it, and I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you, but the rest of me was claimed by the North before I met you.”

Her lover begins sobbing into her gloves. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never be enough, ever.”

Dany feels ill, sick with shame. She leans over and wraps her arms around Sansa. “No, I’m sorry. I’m selfish and entitled and insensitive. You are enough. And you’re right. Almost everyone I’ve ever known, save for maybe Drogo… Their lives were dependent on mine. They wanted or needed something from me. But one of the things that made me love you so much is that you don’t. You didn’t. You have a life of your own. You say you love me for my strength? Sansa, you brought this place in from the freezing cold and revived it. You carried the North through this winter. You ensured that the Dawn could be won. You rely on no one, care for everyone. And when you look at me, you don’t see the dragon-woman. You see a woman. You see me. Just me. And I know… You wouldn’t be the same woman I fell in love with if you set it all aside to follow me. I didn’t fall in love with a puppy dog. I fell in love with a lady. 

“I was being selfish, I’m so sorry. I’m just so afraid sometimes. And it just seems so unfair to me… Jaehaerys the Wise had Alysanne. Aegon had Rhaenys and Visenya. I just… I wish I could just be with you the way people have been with those they love for so long.”

Sansa looks up. “As do I. You think I don’t? You don’t think it drives me mad thinking of how eventually, we’ll both have to marry some men who could never love us the way we love each other? I grew up dreaming of having a heroic knightly prince, beautiful and brave, to show up and slay the monsters for me and love me and make me feel extraordinary things. And after years of having given up on that dream, all of a sudden, that person shows up. They literally slay the monsters and save us all. And they love me and they’re brave and gentle and strong and more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen. But because of a few circumstances… I can’t have you in all the ways I want you. I can’t marry you, spend all of my life with you, give you children. But I’d never, ever ask you to leave all you’ve worked for behind, Daenerys. I’d never ask you to leave the Iron Throne or King’s Landing or… Any of it. I knew who you were the first time I kissed you. And I accepted that. You’re worth it. You’re worth the cruel irony, the longing, the confusion, the conflict. I just wish you felt the same way.”

Dany looks at her lap. “I didn’t ever intend to make you feel like you’re not worth it.”

“It’s not about my worth, Dany. It’s about you not realizing you’re worth it.”

“I’m not, though, Sansa. Maybe you can endure my absence, but I’m not sure I can endure yours.”

“You can, though. You’re Daenerys Targaryen. You can do anything. Except shorten the distance between us.”

Dany does a double-take. “What does that mean?”

Sansa sighs. “Well, it’s not like you can just pick up and move any more than I can. What are you going to do? Strap the Iron Throne to Drogon’s back and bring your court to the North?” She actually giggles at this.

Dany’s eyes widen. “Why not?”

Sansa stops giggling. “What?”

  
  


~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

 

**Winterhal Palace is a royal residence and tourist destination in the constituent realm of The North in Westeros.**

**It was constructed between 303 AL and 308 AL by Queen Daenerys I Targaryen, for the purposes of establishing a new royal court. Such was Daenerys’s determination to accomplish that she had the famed Iron Throne flown North by her dragons Viserion and Rhaegal.**

**Numerous reasons were given for the unprecedented change at the time, from signifying the new era, to Daenerys’s distaste for the environment of the corrupt South, to the damaged condition of the Red Keep itself, to a desire for the crown to be closer to the Wall so that the crown could never again ignore the threats of the “real” threat to Westeros  in the wake of the near-catastrophic War for the Dawn.**

**While these considerations may have played a part in Daenerys’s decision, the popular consensus among historians is that Daenerys’s Chief Motivator was to get closer to her Hand/Lover, Sansa I Stark, Lady of the North. Given that Winterhal is within twenty miles (12.5 km) of the historical Stark Palace of Winterfell, and the content of much of the two women’s private correspondence at the time and contemporary accounts from others, this is all but confirmed. This belief is corroborated further by much of the design and decorations of the palace itself, including a wall mural in the monarch’s bedchamber depicting half-naked Lady Stark lying atop a cloud with a direwolf reported to be Lady Stark’s childhood pet, Lady.**

**Winterhal remains distinct from other historical royal residences, such as Dragonstone, Summerhal, and the Red Keep, in that it and the land it sits upon are not part of an independent fiefdom controlled by the crown. Winterhal remains a part of the Winterfell County domains to this day. Though, unlike the owners of other major structures on another family’s lands, the royal family has never been required to pay taxes to House Stark. Winterhal’s proximity to WInterfell is such that rumors of a secret network of tunnels connect the two have persisted since the palace was first built. The existence of these passages have never been confirmed or addressed by anyone associated with the residence.**

**The nature of the relationship between Queen Daenerys and Lady Stark was considered an open secret during Daenerys’s reign. While both women officially took consorts, and homosexuality was technically condemned by the popular religions of the time, the public supported them, nicknaming the two “Madam Stark” and “Queen Sansa”. The two eventually did join their Houses in the marriage of their grandchildren, the future Jaehaerys III and Queen Serena Stark.**

**Winterhal’s reputation as a same-sex romantic gesture has endured and intensified over the years, despite efforts of the royal family to suppress this during more conservative eras of Westeros’s history, where the taboo on same-sex relationships intensified due to the socio-political climate of the time. One of the most famous instances of this was in 526, where King Aenys III Targaryen characterized the stories about his ancestresses as “perverted, vile fiction” and threatened to criminalize any references or implications to the women’s supposed affair.**

**However, in more recent decades, with the growing acceptance of homosexuality, this aspect of the castle’s history has been embraced more and more by the current royal family. In particular, Prince Jon “The Dreamer” Targaryen, who became the first openly gay royal in history. In 785, the palace gift shop began selling postcards and other merchandise printed with artistic depictions of the two women embracing, as well as books about their romance and letters, as well as rainbow flags. Winterhal began hosting civil unions in 787, ten years before the high court ruling making same-sex marriages legal across all of Westeros. The annual Northern gay pride parade began starting its route in the palace gardens that same year. The night after the ruling for same-sex marriages, the royal family hosted an official party celebrating the victory for LGBTQIA rights, decorated with famous images of the legendary couple.**

**While the palace’s status as the primary home for the official royal court has changed over the years, its status as one of the chief LGBTQIA landmarks on Planetos has stayed the same since it was built.**


End file.
